


By Any Means Necessary

by Revasnaslan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gladiator Ulaz, M/M, Mentions of Non-Consensual Drugging, Mentions of memory loss, Moderate Violence, Undercover, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revasnaslan/pseuds/Revasnaslan
Summary: After Ulaz fails to escape Central Command while freeing Shiro, he is taken prisoner and forced to fight for his life in the gladiator arena. With Ulaz compromised, Thace is on his own. However, he can’t find it in himself to abandon Ulaz to the grips of the Empire. Saving Ulaz will be dangerous, but Thace is going to try—and he intends to succeed, by any means necessary.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally time to post this, I guess. It might not have turned out like I wanted to, but I least I got it done. That counts for something ^^;;
> 
> **Artists:** [artsy-oleander](http://artsy-oleander.tumblr.com/) and [myeah-sen](https://myeah-sen.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Betas:** [Vox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Akumeoi) and [Aretia](https://fluffy-keef.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I'll post links to the art once it's been posted :)

For much of his childhood, Ulaz had heard tales of the Lions of Voltron. His mothers—particularly his bloodmother, Azmar—had loved to tell him stories about them before bed, and about what life had been like before Zarkon had begun conquering the known universe. Having grown up on a backwater colony world without any siblings and little money to their clan’s name, the stories had been some of Ulaz’s only sources of entertainment when he was younger. Azmar had always been so sure that one day, Voltron would return and fight back…

Perhaps he was a sentimental fool, and perhaps he was being too optimistic, but Ulaz knew that he couldn’t just sit back and do _nothing_. Not after finding some semblance of hope. Ulaz had a reputation amongst the Blade for being stubborn as the Void and sticking to his plans until the bitter end. When he was younger, before he had developed more spunk, he knew that Commander Kolivan had been lenient, considering that his impulsiveness often to led to… unfortunate results. Now that he was intending to blow his cover, he knew that Kolivan was not happy with his decision, but wasn’t in any position to prevent it, considering he was halfway across the galaxy from the Central Hub of the Empire.

Ulaz genuinely believed that losing Shiro would have been an unnecessary waste, when he inspired hope in others, as he had done with many other prisoners that Ulaz tended to. It was likely that Shiro could do the same for the people back on his home planet… or at the very least, he could find the lion that was hidden, underneath the planet’s surface, and get it out before Zarkon found it and took it for his own.

When Ulaz had informed Kolivan of his plans—just so that Kolivan knew to expect him for reassignment—Kolivan had been quick to remind him of why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing. And then he had brought Thace into it.

He knew that Kolivan was only concerned because blowing his cover was a riskier move than was necessary. He could potentially end up dead, and a dead blade was not nearly as useful as one who was alive, especially since they had so few left over the years.

What Kolivan hadn’t counted on was Thace’s patience and willingness to listen. If Kolivan had wanted to find someone who would’ve convinced him to stay put, he should’ve called Ulaz’s mothers. It was if Kolivan had expected Ulaz to just roll over if Thace so much as tilted his head. Thace had always acted as Ulaz’s impulse control on missions, and kept him out of trouble. While it was true that he didn’t like upsetting Thace, and Thace had been frustrated with him, he had still listened to Ulaz’s reasoning. After that, Thace had— _very_ —reluctantly agreed with him and his decision to blow his cover. But only on the stipulation that he be careful, because Thace wasn’t going to be able to do anything to save him if something went wrong. When Thace had yanked him down for one final nuzzle, for the briefest of moments, Ulaz had reconsidered.

But Thace would fine. Thace could handle himself.

If Ulaz had a chance to help free the universe from Zarkon’s tyranny, he was going to take it.

—

Today was supposed to be a regular check up for Shiro, so Ulaz didn’t know why the Druids had requested Shiro be sedated. Ulaz knew that he wouldn’t be able to carry Shiro through the ship from the medical deck to the escape pods _and_ fend off whoever came after them. For the briefest tick, anxiety flared in Ulaz’s chest—did the Druids somehow _know_ what he was intending to do? He had always been wary of them, felt like they were trying to probe into his mind, his thoughts. However, there were no more guards in the room than usual, and he didn’t sense the eerie energy that frequently accompanied the Druids. For the moment, he swallowed down his anxieties, acted as though nothing was amiss. He couldn’t risk someone noticing that he was uneasy, or else he might’ve been reported for suspicious behavior.

He would see this plan through—there weren’t any other options.

When one of his assistants went to administer a full dosage of sedating drugs, Ulaz grabbed their forearm. “No,” he said, voice firm and sharp—he was going to use his authority while he still had it. “I want him to feel this.” As he spoke, bile rose in the back of his throat, but the assistant only ended up administering half a dose. Even after serving in the gladiator pits for several years, and seeing nothing but death, abuse, and disease—mistreatment of the worst kind—he still couldn’t stand that he was expected to act like nothing was wrong. He was expected to be uncaring, and there was no end to it.

Shiro was speaking the entire time—demanding to know where he was while struggling against his restraints—but Ulaz’s attention was elsewhere. His focus was entirely on his assistants, waiting for their attention to move away. Then, he struck—knocking one of them out and slamming the other hard into the wall before he had the chance to try and sound any kind of alarm. Then, after making sure neither of them were moving, he rushed back across the room to Shiro. He had to get the Champion out of here _now_ , before anyone tried to com his assistant. As soon as a message didn’t get through, then someone was sure to come and check on them. Upon finding two knocked out medical assistants and a missing medic and prisoner, the ship would be put on high alert, and sentries would swarm their position if they were spotted.

Thankfully, it seemed that Shiro was still awake, although he was starting to drift off—although for good measure, Ulaz gave him a quick slap just to jog him back into consciousness. The drugs were doing what they were supposed to then. Ulaz had hoped that lessening Shiro’s dosage, he would’ve had better control over his actions. However, it was difficult to judge how different drugs would affect aliens. While Shiro was smaller than some of the patients Ulaz had taken care of in the past, he had shown a higher tolerance to some of their sedation drugs.

“What’s going on?” Shiro croaked. His head lolled to the side as he tried to keep it upright, watching as Ulaz broke the restraints around his wrists and helped him sit up. “What’s your name? Why are you helping me?”

“I am Ulaz,” he introduced himself—quickly—before taking hold of Shiro’s wrist and leading him along. “Now, come on! We need to get to the escape pods…”

There wasn’t any time to explain further than that. All Shiro needed to know right now was that he was taking him away from this place and that he wasn’t going down to the escape pod bays alone. It was highly unlikely that a drugged alien would manage to get to the escape pods on his own undetected. He might run into a patrol and be unable to defend himself. It was unlikely that Shiro would be killed outright, as Witch Haggar viewed him as such an asset, but Ulaz wasn’t taking those kinds of chances.

Ulaz led him slowly through the ship, trying to keep to the shadows and out of sight of the cameras where he could. While he had taken precautions this morning and had disabled some cameras, others he had put on loop. It was unlikely that the Intelligence division would notice for at least the rest of the shift, but he was being careful, just in case. He knew that if he had actually gotten Thace’s help with this, it would have been easier. He hadn’t wanted Thace risking everything for this, though.

Progress was slow, but short of throwing Shiro over his shoulder and making a break for it, there wasn’t much else he could do besides moving through the ship at Shiro’s pace. They managed to get down about ten sub-decks without incident before nearly running into a patrol. Ulaz blocked Shiro from view, watching as the patrol passed in the next hallway over. He counted ten ticks after they left before moving, taking hold of Shiro’s forearm again and leading him into the next hallway.

“Why are you helping me?” Shiro asked. Confusion laced his tone, beneath the heaviness of the drugs that were causing his speech to come out somewhat slurred.

“Because, you inspire hope. There is a ship on your planet,” Ulaz began explaining, trying to keep his voice soft. “It might help turn the tide in this war, and I cannot allow you to be killed before you retrieve it.”

“Retrieve it for _who_?” Shiro scoffed. “The Empire?”

“I do not work for the Empire,” Ulaz hissed under his breath.

“Are you… working alone?” Shiro asked. His confusion was plain, but he seemed far more trusting than he really had the right to be.

Ulaz didn’t know how to respond. _Technically_ , he wasn’t—in the grand scheme of things, he wasn’t. Right now, though, he was. Again, his mind drifted to Thace—and his heart twisted in his chest, because he knew he was about to leave Thace alone.

“Blades don’t work alone,” Ulaz finally managed. If Shiro asked what a Blade was, Ulaz didn’t hear him.

If only the rest of the escape had gone as smoothly. After programing the coordinates of the base Ulaz knew he’d be reassigned to into Shiro’s arm, Ulaz began prepping Shiro’s escape pod for departure. His ears flicked at the sound of sentries moving down the hall—too many to be a simple patrol. Horror settled in the pit of his stomach as he turned around and saw two Intelligence officers accompanying them. Ulaz barely recognized them, but he could tell just by the way they were standing that they were from two of the more prominent clans within the Imperial hierarchy. Their uniforms were dark enough to fade into the darkness of the hallway, but Ulaz saw the flash of their eyes as their gazes turned to him.

While Intelligence officers spent most of their time working in front of holo-screens, they were still trained for combat, and Ulaz wasn’t sure he could take two of them at once. Thinking quickly, he grabbed Shiro by the color of his prison uniform, and threw him into the shuttle. Shiro landed with a grunt, and tried to push himself up with a huff.

“Ulaz—”

The rest of what Shiro was going to say was cut off when Ulaz slammed his fist against the eject button. If Shiro was protesting, it didn’t matter now. He was safe and would be getting back to his home planet. Find the lion, pilot it, inspire hope. Ulaz had complete faith that Shiro would survive.

He wasn’t sure he could say the same about himself.


	2. Chapter Two

Maintaining the charade that nothing was amiss was a skill that Thace had perfected over the years. Clawing his way up through Zarkon’s personal ranks had made it something of a priority. Even though his bloodmother had been highborn, and this granted him status in the Empire, his clan name could only grant him so much. While keeping his composure intact had become more difficult when Ulaz had first arrived several years ago, he had managed well enough.

At the time, Thace had assumed he had not been informed because Kolivan didn’t want him acting strangely leading up to Ulaz’s arrival, as they had… something of a reputation for acting like newly-bondeds even though they had been bondmates for close to a decade. Thace had been very happy to see Ulaz again after only communicating through private comlinks for far too long, but he had managed to keep his composure. He had continued acting as if nothing had changed and he only allowed himself to soften on the rare occasion when he and Ulaz were alone.

So, now that Ulaz had left— _blown his cover_ —Thace continued to act as he always thought he had, back when Ulaz was still here. He knew that he would be able to manage, even if it hurt, seeing as he had gotten along just fine before.

Mostly, Thace was annoyed that Ulaz had decided to blow his cover _now_ , when they were so close to having the Blade of Marmora’s plan to… deal with Emperor Zarkon in place. He trusted Ulaz with his life, but he had failed to see how the Champion that Ulaz was so interested could help the Blade. Outside of being a deadly fighter in the gladiator ring, there was little else that was really special about him. From what he understood from Ulaz’s explanations, this alien’s home planet hadn’t even managed to leave their own star system yet, nor had they realized that other species lived out in the galaxy. But evidently, Ulaz had seen something in that alien, enough to tell them that a _Voltron Lion_ was hidden somewhere on their planet.

Ulaz had always been an optimist, though, even when he and Thace had been Blade initiates. So, when he had looked at Thace with such desperation—such conviction that he _needed_ to do this—Thace had relented, even though he knew that Kolivan had told him to talk sense into Ulaz. Thace had stop arguing.

He had let Ulaz go.

From that point onward, he was careful to keep his head down, so as not to bring attention to himself. If Imperial Intelligence was still surveying com networks in order to try and catch Ulaz’s accomplices, Thace didn’t want to appear suspicious. That was why he hadn’t attempted to contact Kolivan yet. He just had to… to _trust_ that Ulaz had made it to the rendezvous point and was safe. It could be rotations before he heard any word.

The only thing that kept him focused on the mission was the weight of his bondnecklace around his neck, hidden beneath his chest plate. It was a constant, and Thace found its presence calming when everything around him suddenly felt lonely again. He had gotten accustomed to Ulaz’s presence on the flagship, even if they rarely saw one another. In the wake of Ulaz’s disappearance, Thace had taken to isolating himself, in an attempt to lessen the chance of someone noticing a possible shift in his demeanor.

While Commander Prorok never really had much interest in what he was doing, Commander Throk often did, if only because Throk seemed to consider Thace a friend. Recently, during their breaks—which were too far and few between, in Thace’s opinion—Throk had taken to bugging him. In Thace’s experience, Throk was notoriously stubborn when he wanted someone’s attention, even if his presence clearly wasn’t wanted. Thace was of the mind that Throk was just spoiled and used to getting what he wanted out of people, as he came from one of the highest ranking clans in the Empire. Thace didn’t think he had ever met someone as loyal to the Empire and Zarkon as the people from Clan Vas Myvoknera.

Thace’s ears shifted as he heard Throk approach his station—and a quick glance at the ticker on his console told Thace it _was_ the middle of the shift. Nevertheless, Thace didn’t bother turning his head to look at his co-worker. His claws clicked softly against the holoscreen as he continued working. “Can I help you with something, Throk?” Thace asked blandly, in an attempt to make his disinterest in talking clear before Throk started his latest spiel.

“I wanted to ask if you were interested in attending the gladiator matches tonight,” Throk said, ears shifting forward as he peered over Thace’s shoulder.

Thace withheld a sigh, ears twitching as he fought to keep them from pinning back. He held no love for the gladiator matches, nor did he see the point in them. While he could understanding fighting for the sake of improving one’s combat skills, for the entertainment of trying to beat one’s opponent, watching to-the-death matches always caused his stomach to flip. More often than not, those in the ring were helpless prisoners set upon each other for the sake of entertaining the fleet, sent in against opponents who were three times their size and with years more combat experience.

The Blade of Marmora didn’t look fondly on fights that didn’t have a _point_ besides just being pure bloodsport.

“I have plans tonight, actually,” Thace said, turning his head to meet Throk’s gaze with an unamused look. “Now, you could let me get back to work?”

“It’s been _forever_ since you attended a match, Thace,” Throk retorted as his eyes narrowed slightly. He seemed to be more concerned than annoyed, though—surprisingly. “I haven’t even seen you in the commissary recently. Do you just lock yourself in your room following your shifts?”

“Maybe I just like my privacy,” Thace said, trying to keep his tone even when all he really wanted to do was hiss at Throk to leave him alone. He normally had more patience than this, and he liked Throk well enough when Throk wasn’t being a complete ass, but he was not in the mood for this right now. Even if he knew Throk was acting out of concern for a friend. But he wasn’t on this ship to make friends, even though he sometimes made sure newer cadets felt comfortable or the other high ranking soldiers weren’t hazing them too harshly. The only person on this ship who he had considered a friend was Ulaz.

And Ulaz was gone now.

Again, his focus drifted towards the comlink. If he could find a relatively secluded console—perhaps on one of the lower, less frequented subdecks—then he could try and get a transmission out. Just to check to make sure Ulaz had made it to a rendezvous point where he would be reassigned to a new posting. But Thace bit back the compulsion, since he couldn’t currently get away. He knew it was better not to, and if _Throk_ had noticed a shift in his behavior, Thace had utterly failed at acting like nothing was amiss.

If Throk noticed that Thace was biting back a hiss, he gave no indication—but then again, it was extremely difficult to throw Throk off unless one caught him by surprise. Once again, his ears shifted forward in interest as he tilted his head to the side and a smirk played on his lips, revealing his sharp teeth. “I have it on good faith that there is going to be an… _interesting_ challenger tonight.”

Thace’s ears flicked in surprise. Throk’s ‘good faith’ usually referred to his cub sister who worked in Imperial Intelligence. She apparently sometimes gave Throk information—that was well within his clearance—in order to get him off her back for half a shift. In Thace’s experience though, she was just as nasty to deal with as her brother. Thace felt nothing but pity for her co-workers.

“Interesting how?” Thace asked, deciding—against his better judgment—to humor Throk, even for just half a tick. Throk didn’t normally take such an interest in prisoners unless there was something decidedly _unique_ about them. It was more than likely that the challenger was a prisoner of war that had been taken from a recently conquered planet to be made an example of.

Throk shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She wouldn’t give me any other details, but she wouldn’t lie about it being interesting.”

“And I have a feeling our definitions of interesting differ,” Thace said dryly, more to himself than to Throk.

“Perhaps,” Throk agreed. “However, Nylak is very rarely wrong about things being interesting. And the recent matches have been so dull… I cannot believe it has taken this long for us to finally get some new blood in that pit.”

Thace sighed. “I had no idea that the fights had been getting dull.”

“Because you never attend!” Throk complained.

Thace rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe that’s because I’m busy with work that you throw at me instead of doing it yourself,” he said, peering at Throk through narrowed eyes.

“I am a better tactician than I am a paper pusher,” Throk scoffed. “Besides, if you _don’t_ attend tonight then it will just be me and my sister.”

“What about Tulir?” Thace asked. The other Commander wasn’t one that Thace was particularly close to—although he was intimidating. In no small part because of his purple, glowing claws.

“He just shipped out for a couple of cycles,” Throk said, shaking his head. He looked a little too smug for Thace’s taste.

“When is the match, same time as usual?” Thace hoped he wasn’t going to regret this. Tulir he could deal with, but he held no love for Throk’s sister… most because she could be even more trying than Throk was, only with more arrogance from her relative youth and lack of experience. There was also the fact that Nylak worked in Imperial Intelligence. Thace was supposed to be avoiding direct contact with people working there until further notice. He could just pretend to be interested in the match.

“I believe so, unless they changed something,” Throk said. “I also hear that Emperor Zarkon will be in attendance.”

Thace ears flicked in interest at that. Real, genuine interest. While the Emperor attended _some_ matches, it wasn’t a regular occurrence by any stretch of the imagination, and when he did attend it was because there was an important challenger in the ring that night. Most commonly a war prisoner or a traitor who had been slated for a glorified public execution. Whoever this “interesting challenger” was, they were important enough to garner the attention of the Emperor, and that alone was enough to make the fur on the back of Thace’s neck spike up.

“Fine. Fine,” Thace finally said, looking annoyed in spite of his agreement—not that Throk really seemed to care or notice. “Did your sister tell you anything else about them?” he asked next, trying not to sound too curious. “Are they a war prison, or perhaps—”

Throk looked a little too pleased at Thace’s sudden interest. His ears perked straight up. “So you _will_ attend?”

“I already said I would. Just make sure you and Nylak don’t fight,” Thace said. He had acted as a mediator more times than he could really care to count, but right now, he was willing to do it again in order to see this prisoner that Throk and Nylak were so interested in.


	3. Chapter Three

In the hours leading up to the match, Thace tried to mentally prepare himself for the roar of the crowd—he had never enjoyed being around so many people at once, much preferring his privacy or the company of one or two others. The fact that it was a gladiator match he was going to be attending made it even worse. Whenever he had to attend a match in Commander Prorok’s stead, he bore it because it was expected of him. After his birthfather had died, he had to uphold their clan’s reputation—even if Clan Noverok hadn’t been loyal to the Empire since his parents had bonded—and that meant following social conventions he didn’t necessarily agree with.

The Blade of Marmora stood to lose a lot if he mucked things up. They had greatly benefited from having a relatively high standing clan loyal to them and their cause, without the Emperor’s knowledge.

Thace arrived in the arena nearly a varga after the matches had already begun. Mostly because he didn’t care, but he also because knew Throk wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it besides commenting snidely about his tardiness. As he moved through the stands, he was surprised to find the arena packed for once—in the past, when Thace had attended, there hadn’t been nearly so many soldiers in one place. Perhaps a fleet had just returned for inspection, and they intended to enjoy a spectacle before being shipped out again.

It wasn’t too difficult to find Throk amongst the crowd, since he had sat where he always did, only a couple of rows back from the edge of the ring. True to what he had told Thace earlier, Tulir was absent—which Thace still found unusual, since it was rare to see Throk without him at the ring. Instead, a rather pretty looking Galra sat beside him, although it wasn’t difficult to identify her as Throk’s sister, seeing as they looked very much alike. The only key differences were that his sister lacked facial markings, had an off-white throat to match her mask, and had dark hairtails where Throk’s were lighter. Having met their birthmother once before, Thace knew that most of their looks had come from her.

“Nylak,” Thace said curtly.

Her ears flicked in acknowledgment. “Lieutenant,” she said in response, although she didn’t grace him with a salute, as protocol dictated she should have. Throk didn’t look concerned with it, though, nor did he correct her. In fact, he actually narrowed his eyes, as if daring Thace to comment on it.

Not looking for a fight, Thace decided to hold his tongue as he moved to take a seat on the other side of Throk. “You rarely come to the fights,” he commented, trying to make conversation in order to distract himself.

Nylak tilted her head to the side before there was just the slightly upward quirk of her lips. Her ears twitched in amusement. “Hmm… I could say the same of you, Lieutenant,” she said.

“I told you I was going to invite her,” Throk cut in, although his gaze didn’t stray from straight ahead of them. He appeared to watching as they prepped the field for the next match. Thace didn’t have to look to know that the to-the-death matches had already begun.

In an instant, what could have passed for a smile was gone from Nylak’s face as she turned to level an unimpressed look upon Throk. “You _dragged_ me up here, Rokan,” she retorted as her large ears pinned back against the sides of her head.

Throk gave a lazy, amused smile. “Same difference, dear cub sister of mine. I have your best interests at heart.”

Nylak gave a faint hiss as she turned to face forward again, crossing her arms over her chest. “Like the Void, you do…” she grumbled, ears twitching irritably. “I _told_ you what you wanted to know. That doesn’t mean _I_ need to be up here.”

Thace withheld a sigh. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to come the tick that Throk had mentioned that it was just going to be him and Nylak for company tonight. Anytime they were in the same room together, their conversations quickly devolved into cub squabbles and it was such a hassle to mediate for them. He was already tired of it.

“Throk, you mentioned earlier that you had it on good faith that there would be an interesting challenger?” Thace cut in before the argument could really take off. “I trust you remember that’s the only reason I’m here tonight.”

Beside Throk, Nylak tried not to look too pleased with herself. Thace did catch the flash of her canines in the dim light of the arena as she smirked wide. Thace’s ears gave a curious twitch, even as he felt the fur on the back of his neck stand up and he tried to maintain an impassive mask as best as he could.

“What do you want to know, Lieutenant?” Nylak asked, ears shifting forward. She had a penchant for gossip and those ears of hers rarely missed details that soldiers whispered about.

“Define interesting,” Thace finally said, trying to sound more interested than he actually was.

“Oh, yes… this challenger is _very_ interesting,” Nylak said, and Thace tried not to be put off by how she was flexing her claws in plain view. “I wish I could have asked him a few more questions, but…” she huffed a sigh, looking put out. “The witch wanted him in the ring tonight… that’s what Lieutenant Tali said, anyway.”

Thace’s ears perked, tilting forward in genuine interest as he tilted his head to the side. “A prisoner of war?” he guessed.

Nylak frowned and then glanced at her brother. “Rokan, what did you tell him?”

“Everything you told me,” Throk said. Then, he frowned cubishly at his sister. “Which was _not_ enough.”

Nylak scoffed, not looking impressed. “I told you what you needed to know,” she retorted. “Just because you’re my brother doesn’t mean I will give you information you don’t need to know.”

Thace couldn’t decide if Nylak was actually withholding information because it was her job to do so, or because she didn’t actually know as much as she was letting on. Both he and Throk outranked her—technically—but Thace resisted the urge to remind her of that. He knew better than to pick fights with Intelligence officers. Especially since he didn’t want to get on Nylak’s bad side or give her reason to suspect him of anything. If she had enough reason she could go looking into his files or order a search of his room. While he always kept his bondnecklace on him—even though he wasn’t _supposed_ to have it at all, since he wasn’t marked as being bonded on his file—his Blade uniform was stashed in his room, even if he kept his blade on him frequently.

Throk, on the other hand, didn’t seem keen on letting the argument go. However, before he could say anything, the announcement for the next round sounded, and the murmur of the crowd began to rise in volume. Thace could taste the tension rising in the air on his tongue. The longer he sat there, the more suffocating it became, and the fur on the back of his neck spiked up underneath the collar of his chest plate.

He wasn’t really paying attention to the field until Throk spoke.

“Is that one of the medics?” Throk’s question was directed more towards his sister than Thace. His ears shifted in Nylak’s direction as he leaned sideways towards her. “I’ve seen him around the medbay before, but…”

Nylak let out a pleased hum, looking rather proud of herself. “Yes,” she said, leaning her chin on her hand as her smirk returned. “My unit caught him trying to hijack an escape pod. He was helping a prisoner escape.”

Throk’s large ears gave an interested flick. “Which one?” he asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Her smirk returned. “The _Champion_ …”

The chirp that Throk let out would have been undignified in any other setting, but he turned to his sister, blinking owlishly. “ _What_? You’re shitting me—”

Throk and Nylak’s chattering seemed to fade away as Thace turned toward the field. He forgot how to breathe, eyes widening as the shock of seeing an all too familiar lavender-and-white face set in. Ulaz was shoved roughly into the dirt by one of the guard sentries, hitting the ground hard and kicking up a small cloud of dust upon impact. It clung to Ulaz’s fur as he made to push himself back to his feet, muddying up the white of his crest and turning it a faint shade of brown. His movements were shaky, although he was too far away from Thace to see if if was because lack of rest, injury, or something else.

His movements were shaky, as if he wasn’t fully rested.

Perhaps he had been starved while being held prisoner or—or _tortured_ was more likely. Nylak had mentioned wanting to ask him more questions. Thace tried to bite back the bile that was rising in his throat, willing his ears to not pin back. It felt like he was suffocating with every breath he took, but— _somehow_ —he managed to remain impassive on the outside. If Nylak or Throk noticed anything was amiss, they didn’t comment on it. They were too focused on their own discussion.

“Fifty GAC that the medic lasts five doboshes,” Nylak said, voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

“Five _doboshes_?” Throk asked with a bark of laughter. “I give him five _ticks_.”

Ulaz’s opponent came out next, with a loud, metallic sounding roar—and Thace nearly had to cover his ears at the sound. It reminded him of the weapon of the old Champion, Myzax. Whenever that damn energy ball had shot around the arena, it had left Thace’s ears ringing. Looking at the alien on the opposite side of the arena now, Thace’s stomach dropped—for a tick, he was worried that Throk was actually right. The alien was huge, nearly twice Ulaz’s height, with multiple metallic spikes sticking out from their back and claws that were as long as an awakened blade. It was nearly impossible to tell what species they had been before all the augmentation, but Thace thought they were likely some kind of reptilian species, judging by the fangs and the tail that tapered to a point.

As soon as Ulaz saw his opponent, he was on his feet in an instant, taking a couple of hurried steps back and nearly tripping over his own feet. Thace then noticed that Ulaz was unarmed except for his claws and teeth. Surely they weren’t expecting him to fight to the death _without_ a weapon, were they?

As if answering his question, a sentry lobbed a weapon to the ground, where it landed in the dirt in front of Ulaz. Even at this distance, Thace could recognize it as Ulaz’s blade—the one he had gone through the Trials to rightfully wield in combat. Ulaz immediately grabbed the blade, ducking into a defensive position, as he usually did until he figured out how his opponents fought, what their weak points were. Usually, though… _usually_ he had Thace as back up. They worked much better as a team than they did apart.

Seeing Ulaz wield a blade openly like this was shocking, to say the least. Thace had his blade stashed on his person currently, hidden in a thigh holster in a dagger-like form, just in case he needed it. However, he had never used it out of fear of someone recognizing the insignia as the sigil of the disgraced Clan Marmora. If they didn’t think Ulaz had been a traitor before, they definitely would have thought so if they had recognized it. There was a _reason_ that Clan Marmora had been deemed traitors to the throne nearly ten thousand years ago.

Thace was unable to look away from the arena for one of the first times since he had gone undercover. He had to know if Ulaz was going to be alright, if he was going to survive this fight.

Ulaz began slowly backing up towards one of the large pillars in the center of the arena, eyes never leaving the opposing gladiator even as they screeched again. Several of the soldiers around Thace winced, and one or two even covered their ears to try and drown out the noise. Then, the gladiator turned, and Thace caught sight of a pulsating, purple orb of energy sitting in the middle of their chest.

Thace didn’t have time to wonder what the orb was when the gladiator screeched again and surged forward, lashing out one of their metallic claws. Ulaz turned, finally breaking eye contact with his opponent as he scrambled across the dirt, nearly losing his footing as he ducked behind the nearest pillar. He shielded his head with his arms as one of the alien’s claws sank into the stone surface of the pillar, kicking up dust and leaving large gouges in their wake. Luckily for Ulaz, his opponent’s claws had gotten embedded in the pillar, and while they were momentarily distracted, Ulaz ducked beneath the claw that had been just shy of taking off his head, and made a break for another spot of cover.

Thankfully, even when his opponent managed to pull themselves free, Ulaz was much lighter on his feet, so he managed to stay a couple of steps ahead of them and was able to duck in and out of the cover of the pillars in order to avoid their claws. Even though Ulaz seemed to be handling himself pretty well, Thace was still antsy, hands curled into fists in his lap and his claws digging into his palms. He hadn’t felt so… _helpless_ in a long time, and there wasn’t anything he could do without risking his own safety. Then he’d be no help to Ulaz at all.

Even though he wanted to turn away, Thace still tried to watch the match—he was unable to look away. He didn’t _want_ to, in case he missed something. His fur was beginning to stand on end, and he could feel blood being drawn on his palms.

Ulaz dove over another slash from his opponent, rolling back to his feet upon landing, and as he took off in another mad sprint for cover, Thace noticed how the orb in the other gladiator’s chest pulsed sharply. Now, Thace’s focus was pinned on it—whenever the gladiator lashed out one of their augmented arms, or screeched loudly as they chased Ulaz around the arena, the orb would flare up, casting dim purple light around the rest of their chest cavity. Thace’s ears were instantly alert. He might not have been an expert on Witch Haggar’s experiments, but he’d be willing to bet all his GAC that the orb was the gladiator’s power source. He hoped that Ulaz had noticed it as well in between avoiding getting seriously maimed and hiding behind pillars until he could find an opening.

While the orb was left with virtually no protection, it _was_ in the center of the gladiator’s chest. The only way Ulaz would be able to get to it was if he got in close and risked getting hit himself. Thace watched with bated breath as Ulaz peeked out from behind the pillar on the far side of the arena while his opponent lumbered towards him—Thace wondered briefly if they shook the ground as they walked. It was impossible to discern Ulaz’s expression from here, but knowing him, he was frowning, trying to concentrate.

The other gladiator lunged forward again, lashing out with another harsh screech that threatened to destroy Thace’s hearing—and Ulaz threw his blade. It was a move that Thace remembered learning when they were initiates, and one of Kolivan’s favorites that he had taught while taking over training for the afternoon for Bladesmith Evren. Throwing one’s blade was meant to take out sentries and drones quickly and effectively, aiming directly for their motor cores so that they would be shut down before transmitting anything.

Ulaz hit the orb dead center, and with an ear-splitting scream and loud crash, the other gladiator fell over, kicking up dust and debris. And the orb dissipated into nothing. While they were still alive, the other gladiator seemed… weak, as if they were barely holding on, and their cries now seemed more akin to pained, metallic-sounding whimpers. They didn’t move from where they had fallen, incapacitated by the blow.

Thace allowed himself to breathe again, and finally, spared a glance to Nylak and Throk in order to gauge their reactions—he had forgotten that they were even there. Both looked utterly flabbergasted, as if they hadn’t considered the possibility that a medic could be capable of bringing down an opponent three times their size in the arena. While all soldiers were given the same amount of rudimentary training in basic, medics didn’t have much need for more advanced combat training. But Ulaz wasn’t an ordinary Imperial medic, and the Blade of Marmora made sure _all_ of their officers were trained for any situation.

The crowd around Thace was chanting now, drawing his attention back to the still uncompleted match—although the words became little more than a garbled mess by the time they reached Thace’s ears. However, he didn’t need to hear them to know what they were saying, and now, his ears actually did pin back before he could stop them. Ulaz had already pulled his blade free, and was looking at it, as if contemplating what he should do…

Thace turned his head away, and not even a tick and a half later, the crowd erupted in cheers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note: rokan is a nickname of throk's from when he was a cub :P
> 
> side side note: anyone familiar with my dads of marmora au? it's completely divorced from this au, nylak is mostly here cause i wanted to explore what would've happened if she _hadn't_ joined the blade of marmora


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done by [myeah-sen](https://myeah-sen.tumblr.com/).

Thace waited a couple of shifts before he made any attempt to contact Kolivan and the rest of the Blade—he _needed_ to inform them of the situation they now found themselves in. Otherwise, it would have been at least another couple of rotations before they would have written Ulaz off as dead. It would have been less likely they would have searched for him, especially since he had broken cover during such a high stakes mission. There had always been a protocol in place that was meant for situations like this.

Thace knew that if he were to blow his cover, he was to head to Losi, in the Ceeri Sector, nearly halfway across the Empire from the central hub. Assuming he made it, he would then be transferred to a communications base, presumably, although he didn’t know which one. The Blade had to keep some amount of secrecy intact, even if Thace was one of the highest ranking officers they had. If he did end up having to cut and run, then his clan’s reputation would go downhill. It was a good thing he had been liquidating assets and storing them for the Blade of Marmora’s use for years, ever since he had taken over as the head of Clan Noverok following his birthfather’s passing.

It was surprising to him that he hadn’t been questioned by the Empire about Ulaz yet. While he and Ulaz had been extremely careful not to be seen together, _nobody_ was above suspicion right now, even if they hadn’t shown a predisposition for treachery in the past. Thace had been playing the part of the loyal soldier for _years_ , but that wouldn’t make him immune to Witch Haggar’s questioning—and he really didn’t want to come face to face with her anytime soon. His introduction to her had been traumatizing enough. However, he was sure that he was on the list of those who were to be questioned eventually. It was unlikely that Imperial Intelligence believed Ulaz was alone. They would have been searching for his accomplice.

Nylak certainly believed Ulaz had one. Thace had overheard her making mention of it following the match, but since she and Throk had been leaning their heads in close, Thace doubted that she knew he had heard at all.

It mattered little. Thace requested a couple of cycles absence for shore leave, claiming he was going to visit his home planet. He debated going to Khal, to try and message the main base as well as inform Ulaz’s mothers what had happened to him. But Ulaz’s mothers would already be distressed enough without hearing their son had been made into a gladiator, so Thace decided against it.

He ended up on Ladsis instead. It was a dreary planet that was well known for its connection to the blackmarket and alien trafficking rings—a cesspool of corruption, but it also wasn’t under as heavy of a watch by the Empire. And there was a Blade stationed there. If Thace could find them, he would be able to get a message back to the main base. Warning Kolivan was of the utmost importance.

When he first arrived planetside, he wasn’t surprised to see people eying him suspiciously—and he knew better than to ask for directions. Honestly, he was concerned that someone would try to shank him if he got too close. He didn’t let his guard down as he walked, making sure to keep a wary eye out for any signs of the Blade stationed here. There would be a mark somewhere, well hidden amongst the grime and filth that covered the streets. He knew that on Keron, the marks were hidden amongst graffiti, but here, where most of the buildings appeared to be made out of wood, the marks were more likely to be carved. He made sure to keep his face partially obscured by his hood, with a scarf over the lower half of his face. He would have put his mask on, but the design was distinct enough to attract attention. With his armor mostly covered by his cloak, he prayed to the stars that nobody would bother him until he found what he was looking for.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a light marking, scratched into the wood of a nearby building. If it hadn’t been for a lantern hanging above, he might have missed it entirely, as a barrel was sitting in front of it, shielding it from view. He glanced around, checking to make sure that there wasn’t anybody watching him before he ducked down to look at the marking. Smoothing his hand over top of the mark, he lightly traced the design with a claw. It was the mark of the Blade.

His ears turned, listening behind him—and he spun around, drawing his blade from where it had been sheathed at his hip. It collided with the blade of the other officer, and they ricocheted off of one another. Sparks flew through the air, but the other Blade wasn’t phased.

“Fancy seeing you here,” the other Blade said, keeping their voice low to keep any passersby from overhearing the conversation. Their face was still mostly obscured by their hood, but even through the shadow it created, Thace recognized the dark tear trails and bluish-purple fur of Kyren, one of the first officers he had helped train.

“I could say the same about you,” Thace responded, matching the volume of Kyren’s voice as he took a step back and sheathed his blade again. “I was looking everywhere—”

Kyren scoffed. “You walked past Regris twice…” he teased. “Losing your touch a little bit there?”

Thace’s ears pinned back against the sides of his head, but he only let out a faint, irritated hiss. “Regris passed then?” he asked. The last he had seen of the initiate, he was progressing nicely.

Kyren nodded, looking a little exasperated. But then his mask reappeared, shielding his face from view. When he next spoke, his voice was already augmented. “And _I_ got saddled with cubsitting him,” he grumbled, although he sounded fond enough. “He should be hanging around here somewhere.” Then, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, and put your mask on… we’re taking the roofs.”

Thace didn’t argue, and did as Kyren said. Wordlessly, he followed Kyren back up to the roofs, although there was no sign of Regris anywhere. Kyren didn’t seem to be worried, though, so Thace assumed that he had sent Regris on ahead. When they arrived at Kyren and Regris’s hideout, they found him lounging up in the rafters. Only the outline of his body and the lights from his mask were visible in the dark, along with his tail hanging down, twitching back and forth.

“Have you been able to get a message off-world recently?” Thace asked, allowing his mask to disappear again—Kyren didn’t do the same.

“A couple of cycles ago,” Kyren said, turning to the console that was installed near the wall and beginning to try booting it up. It was an older model, probably looted or bought second-hand. Kyren had to give it a good kick to get it to turn on properly, and when it hummed to life, he gave an irritated huff. “I can certainly try… where do you need to reach?”

“The main base,” Thace said.

Kyren looked over his shoulder—Thace didn’t need to see his face to know Kyren was surprised by that. However, before he could say anything, Regris spoke.

“Why didn’t you just send it from wherever you’re stationed?” he asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“There was a security breach, and I couldn’t risk sending out a message,” Thace explained, taking care to omit as much information as he could. Not even Kyren knew where Thace was stationed, and Kyren was also considered a senior Blade by now—it had been nearly two decades since he had left training, after all. Regris, however, was a fresh Blade—this was his first assignment. Thace hoped that Kyren had enough sense to send Regris out before they made this call, otherwise he might end up hearing sensitive information.

Kyren’s mask disappeared again, and Thace noticed how his ears perked beneath his hood as soon as he heard Thace’s statement. Without missing a beat, he glanced at Regris, brow furrowing. “Well…” he began, sounding hesitant. “We can certainly try to get ahold of the Commander… or perhaps the Bladesmith? I’m not sure who is on base right now.”

It took nearly a varga to finally get a hold of the main base. The process involved lots of routing through back networks and communications bases before they finally got in touch with one of the highest ranking members of the Blade of Marmora. Thankfully, it was Kolivan, rather than someone like Bladesmith Apprentice Myrek, who would have been absolutely no help in this situation since he didn’t technically have any authority yet.

“Thace…” Kolivan greeted, ears tilting curiously. “Why are you on Ladsis?”

“There has been a security breach at my posting,” Thace said urgently. “I couldn’t get a message through to you from there without risking my position, but—”

“Then you shouldn’t have left your posting to begin with,” Kolivan said tersely.

Without missing a beat, Thace continued speaking, ignoring Kolivan’s statement completely—even if he knew it to be true. “Ulaz was captured,” he said—and he tried not to think about how miserable Ulaz had looked when he had last seen him. As Thace spoke, he took care not to reveal too much, as Regris was still lounging in the rafters and seemed to be paying close attention to what was going on down below. “He freed a gladiator,” Thace continued, “and was captured in the attempt. I am formally requesting aid in order to—”

“Thace,” Kolivan cut in, more sharply this time. “If he was captured, then he has been compromised, and there is nothing that we can do about it.”

Thace’s ears pinned back at Kolivan’s words, as if he were a scolded cub. He knew that Kolivan was only saying this out of interest in protecting what Blades remained. If they weren’t careful, then their entire organization could be in danger of falling. If Thace were to blow his cover trying to help Ulaz escape… the entire plan to bring down the Empire that they had spent years crafting would go up in smoke…

“But, there must be something— _anything_ we can do for him—” Thace started again.

“I will not have you risk your safety in order to aid him when there is nothing you can do!” Kolivan retorted, ears pinning back as his gaze narrowed. “Besides… Ulaz wouldn’t want you risking your safety for him.”

Thace opened his mouth to argue, but his words caught in his throat. He couldn’t think of any argument against that—Ulaz not wanting him involved was why he hadn’t helped Ulaz free the Champion in the first place. He had initially offered to do so, just to keep an eye on things, but Ulaz had told him no. That he would handle it. Perhaps if he had argued harder, they wouldn’t be in this mess if only Thace had Ulaz’s side.

“Have they taken his blade?” Kolivan asked next, voice going soft again. He looked sympathetic, at the very least.

Thace remembered seeing the sentry throw Ulaz’s blade into the arena after him, Ulaz using his blade to take down the gladiator with accuracy that would have startled others. He wondered why the Druids had let him have it back when it was clearly a weapon that a lowly farmboy from a backwater planet at the edge of the Empire shouldn’t have had. Luxite was far too rare for that, after all, and Ulaz couldn’t have played it off as a family heirloom, given that neither of his mothers came from a prestigious clan, and that much was documented on his record. And then, remembering Azmar and Ulmirak, Thace almost asked if the Blade would relocate Ulaz’s mothers now that he had been compromised, but thought better of it.

“Thace?” Kyren prompted, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“He fought with it in the arena,” Thace said, more terse than he had meant to be.

“They could be trying to figure out how it works,” Kyren suggested, tilting his head to the side.

“I’m sure they know how luxite works, Kyren,” Kolivan said dryly.

Kyren’s fur fluffed up, and he nervously worked his claws through the thick mane on the back of his neck. “Or… they’re trying to figure out how he’s trained?” he said. “Medics don’t normally get taught combat as extensively as ours do…”

Kolivan sighed, holding his forehead in his hand. “Thace, please keep an eye on this,” he said, sounding more tired than Thace had heard him sound in a while. “And don’t do anything stupid… as soon as you are able, send a progress report with your findings.”

Thace was going to argue more, but his ears shifted back. He wasn’t sure what other arguments he could put in that Kolivan wouldn’t shoot down. Instead, he bowed his head and nodded. “Of course, Commander…” he mumbled despondently.


	5. Chapter Five

Once he had gotten back to the fleet, Thace tried to continue on as normal, retrieving what information he could with the intention of sending it back to the Blade of Marmora. However, he also tried to sneak information about Ulaz when he could without seeming suspicious. It was a skill he had gained during his time undercover and he intended to use it if he was able. Especially if it meant he could find a way to help Ulaz. He knew that he couldn’t risk asking too many questions, on the off chance that somebody noticed his interest in one of the gladiators when previously he had shown none—he knew the chances were minimal, but he didn’t want anyone to assume he was somehow affiliated with Ulaz.

They had kept their relationship a secret the entire time they had been undercover together—both the romantic _and_ the working relationship. Thace still questioned why Kolivan had thought that sending his bondmate to be his partner undercover was a good idea. Especially when they couldn’t let their relationship be known. However, looking back on it, the answer was probably because Thace and Ulaz worked extremely well together. Thace could remember several early field missions they had been sent on, when they were still fresh off their trials that had resulted in success, in no small part due to their teamwork. It would have been an obvious choice to pair them together on a mission like this.

The fact that Thace normally stuck to protocol and could reign in Ulaz’s impulsiveness was also a plus—except when Ulaz decided to break protocol anyway.

Thace wasn’t going to lie and say he thought Ulaz’s idea to break the Champion out was without flaw. Their current situation was a _major_ setback that Thace had been worried about from the start, but he was willing to let it go. He knew there wasn’t anything he could have done to prevent Ulaz from freeing the Champion unless he had physically tried to stop him. If Ulaz felt that freeing the Champion was worth it, Thace was willing to let him go about it, even though he still wasn’t sure he understood _why_. And he wasn’t in the position to ask Ulaz. He couldn’t risk going down to the cell blocks.

However, when he could, he tried to ask after Ulaz’s situation when he and Throk were on duty—most frequently when Prorok wasn’t paying attention. While Prorok was far from forgiving of gossip, Throk lived and breathed the stuff… and his sister being a member of Imperial Intelligence certainly didn’t hurt things either. All Thace had to do was be subtle, and not ask too much too quickly.

“Has your sister told you anything about the new gladiator?” Thace asked during their mid-shift break.

“Did they get any new information out of him, you mean?” Throk asked, ears shifting forward in interest as he looked away from his station.

Thace kept his ears from pinning back, trying to maintain a disinterested expression. His claws dug into his palms—not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to hurt. It had been nearly half a rotation since Ulaz’s first battle in the ring. Ten evenings of battles, ten nights for the intelligence officers to try their hardest to get something out of him.

“Nylak hasn’t told me anything,” Throk said, looking put out. “But knowing her, she might be withholding information.”

“Shame,” Thace said, more softly than he intended, but Throk didn’t appear to have noticed. He tried to bite back the anxiety that flared in his chest from not knowing _anything_ —and then, he remembered Ulaz’s mothers, cursing himself internally for not thinking of them sooner. The tick that Ulaz had been captured, they would have been searching everything in his dossier, and Ulaz’s homeplanet of Khal was listed there. As far as Thace knew, both Azmar and Ulmirak were still living there, working as informants for the Blade of Marmora. They weren’t official members, in the same vein as Slav, but Kolivan wasn’t going to pass up the help on such a remote planet.

“I was interested in knowing if your sister had found anything about where he came from,” Thace continued, tilting his head to the side. “Rebels don’t just appear out of nowhere.”

Throk chuckled softly. “You think he’s a rebel?” he asked. “Well, he’s certainly not going to be getting much done on his own, is he?”

“No, I suppose he won’t,” Thace said stiffly.

“Well, from what I was told, his personal history apparently checked out, to a point,” Throk said. “Colonial, from the desert world of Khal—apparently it’s hotter than a planet’s core there.”

Thace had been to Khal once before, shortly after he and Ulaz had been officially bonded—just to meet Ulaz’s mothers since he had never had the opportunity before then. It wasn’t called a desert world just for show. His thick undercoat had hampered his ability to do much of anything without overheating, and Thace doubted that the heavy armor most infantry wore would help them much. Sand and grit would get into sentry joints and make them break down faster. All in all, it was a pretty horrible place to live _and_ to keep control of.

“Anything else?” Thace asked, ears flicking in genuine interest.

“He lived there with his mothers, Azmar and Ulmirak,” Throk continued. “However, when troops were sent to collect them for questioning, they found them gone.”

At that, Thace internally breathed out a sigh of relief. If anything had happened to his mothers, especially on his account, Ulaz would have never forgiven himself for it. Thace just hoped that they were safe with the Blade. Azmar was a gifted medic, much like her son, so she would be able to find a use there.

“How do you know his documents weren’t forged?” Thace asked.

“Because my sister is an exceedingly thorough,” Throk said, leveling Thace with an dismissive look and accompanying ear flick. “He is a member of the Taelan clan.”

“Never heard of it,” Thace lied through his teeth, willing the fur on the back of his neck to stay flat.

“I hadn’t either, until I looked into it,” Throk said. “They are a small, backwater clan who never leave Khal. I am amazed they managed to produce anyone who was worthy of being called a doctor.”

“Perhaps he got lucky,” Thace suggested—which was half-true. From what Ulaz had told him, it _had_ been luck that had led a Blade to Khal, and Ulaz. Thace couldn’t remember the story in any great detail right now, but he thought that perhaps the Blade who had recruited Ulaz was the current Chief Medical Officer, Kellun.

“I wonder if he ‘got lucky’ when it comes to his skills in the ring,” Throk said, before glancing at the ticker that indicated shift changes. His ears pinned back and he sighed heavily before turning back to his station. “I can’t help but feel that his so called ‘luck’ is going to run out. Nylak tells me that he is scheduled to be back in the ring tonight.”

Thace tried to hide his curiosity, but failed spectacularly. “He was just in the ring last night.”

Throk’s ears shifted forward as he looked over his shoulder again. “Oh, that’s right… you’ve actually begun attending matches again,” he said, ears flicking in interest. “Do you want to join the pot? Nyla has fifty GAC on him dropping dead in five doboshes, I have one hundred on him surviving, and Tulir has ten on him lasting about ten doboshes.”

Thace scoffed. “Gambling is against protocol…”

Throk smirked, and Thace caught a flash of his sharp teeth in the dim light. “Only if you get caught,” Throk said nonchalantly. “Besides, I wanted to wipe that smug smirk off my cub sister’s face…”

With the way that Ulaz’s fights had been going the last couple of nights, Thace thought that Nylak would have been smarter to take the bet on him winning—but perhaps she had something up her sleeve that she was hiding from her brother.

“Have you ever considered sponsoring a gladiator, Throk?” Thace asked.

“I have, but I never felt it necessary,” Throk said, eyes narrowing. “Why do you ask?”

“You could sponsor that traitor, since he seems to be winning so much,” Thace said. “ _Without_ informing your sister.”

“Are you suggesting I rig the bets?” Throk scoffed. “Do that to my own flesh and blood? How _crude_ …”

Except his smirk had only grown wider. That didn’t come as a surprise to Thace, though. He was very well aware that Throk would throw Nylak to the weblums if it meant a chance at one-upping her in something. From what Thace had seen, Throk and his sister—Void, _all_ his siblings—were extremely competitive. They were constantly at each other’s throats, trying to gain the approval of their father, who was the head of their clan. Thace had never been able to sympathize with that. He and his sister had been very close before she had disappeared on a mission several years prior.

However, Thace wasn’t above using another set of siblings’ dysfunctional relationship to try and gain Ulaz even the slightest amount of help.

“Seeing the shocked look on Nyla’s face when she realizes that I outsmarted her…” Throk continued, seeming very pleased with the suggestion. “And she believes more in a higher ranked gladiator—by the time she gains interest in this one…” He trailed off and seemed to begin thinking it over.

Thace hadn’t expected this spur of the moment plan to work so well. The act of sponsoring a gladiator was not something to be taken lightly, considering that one often had to pay GAC in order to make sure their gladiator was in peak condition—any failure of the gladiator was reflective of the sponsor. However, if it could help Ulaz, then Thace was willing to push for it, since this was the only thing he could think of to do.

—

Before Throk was willing to make a final decision, he wanted a thorough medical examination to be done—one that Throk invited Thace along for, since it had been Thace’s idea in the first place. Initially, Thace had debated trying to argue that he was busy, that Prorok needed him for something else, that Throk had his own lieutenant that he could shirk these duties off onto. Eventually, however, he had given in. If Throk believed they were friends, then so be it—Thace could play along.

The trip down to the prisoner levels was long—much longer than Thace had initially thought it was going to end up being. He never came down here unless he absolutely had to. It was such a rare occurrence that he mostly followed after Throk, due to not knowing the exact directions. Throk, however, knew exactly where they were going. The second that the entered the medical room, Thace’s heart jumped into his throat.

They had _muzzled_ Ulaz.

It was likely as a safety precaution, in the event that Ulaz tried to snap at someone. Thace had heard Ulaz talk about how often they muzzled prisoners for that exact reason. The muzzle itself didn’t look much different from the mask that Thace had seen Ulaz wear back before he had blown his cover, but it was fastened onto the lower half of his face so tightly that it seemed to be threatening to cut into his skin.

“Commander Throk,” one of the on-shift medics greeted, quickly raising their fist to their chest in a salute. “You said you wanted an overview of Prisoner 116-1789?”

At the sound of his prisoner number, Ulaz’s ears gave an irritated flick, and he chuffed behind the muzzle. He narrowed his eyes before turning his head away.

“Moody thing, isn’t he?” Throk snorted under his breath to Thace.

“Considering he has a muzzle on, I’m not surprised,” Thace said. Prisoners tended to get a little testy when one of their only means of protecting themselves was taken away. He had heard stories of Galra prisoners being declawed—and just thinking about having that done to him made Thace fidget, curling his hands into fists at his sides so hard that his claws dug into his palms. If Ulaz lashed out too much, they might try to do that to him, even though _technically_ , it wasn’t standard practice anymore.

“Do you have records of his injuries?” Throk asked the medic.

“He hasn’t sustained anything too graphic since entering the ring, sir,” the medic said, after pulling up Ulaz’s dossier on their datapad. “However, we did find evidence of past trauma in one of his legs that wasn’t in our records—judging by the healing, he would have received that injury before he was stationed on the flagship. It’s rather old.”

Thace could remember dragging Ulaz to cover while under blaster fire when that injury had occurred—all while Ulaz was complaining about how they had the nerve to aim for the medic. If the way Ulaz’s ears flicked was any indication, he was likely remembering the same event. He glanced up again, looking at Thace, and his ears shifted back as his brow furrowed. There was a tiredness in his eyes, and Thace could see how his claws were tapping nervously against the examination table.

“So, he’s hardy, then?” Throk asked.

“Very much so, sir,” the medic said. “I believe Commander Sendak was interested in sponsoring him—as a replacement for the prisoner he let escape.”

Throk snorted, large ears drawing back as he grimaced. “Commander Sendak is hardly ever at the Central Hub anymore. What use does he have for a gladiator?”

Thace could think of several. Raising his prestige, for one. Trying to find a way to provide _something_ for his half-brothers and half-sister was another. Sendak’s clan had been stagnating for several years now, due to his bloodfather failing a mission that he had been sure would bring their clan glory. Had Thace been stupider, he would have pointed out that Throk’s clan had been in a similar position for a while because of one of Throk’s older brothers going AWOL—supposedly due to rebel affiliations—but decided against it.

Throk took a step closer to Ulaz, earning a warning growl in return—not that it phased Throk in the slightest. But in Thace’s experience, it was incredibly difficult to intimidate Throk unless you caught him off guard.

At the sound of Ulaz’s snarl, Throk’s ears gave a twitch of amusement. “Let’s hope he channels this into wins,” he said easily, already turning away and leaving. “I expect that he’ll be ready for the next fight.”

“Of—Of course, sir,” the medic said. Once Throk was out of earshot, they turned to Thace. “Does that mean he’s sponsoring, sir?”

“Yes, I believe it does,” Thace said, trying not to look too pleased that his haphazardly thrown together plan had actually worked. “Make sure he is given water and fed… I don’t think Throk would like it if you unintentionally sabotaged him, do you?”

As he left the room, he caught Ulaz's eye one last time. A lump formed in his throat as Ulaz stared at him, ears drawn back. It was difficult to turn away.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done by [myeah-sen](https://myeah-sen.tumblr.com/).

Luxite had a tendency to spark when it was brought against another metal. But it was impossible for the standard gladiator’s weapon to cut through luxite, no matter how hard they tried. Thace had never paid as much attention to it in the past, but now he couldn’t help but watch as Ulaz’s blade cut his opponent’s weapon clean in half. While the rest of the crowd cheered around him, Thace remained silent, leaning forward, forearms resting on his thighs as he watched the rest of the match play out. Ulaz’s opponent still hadn’t given up, even though they were down a weapon. Thace had debating skipping this match all together, just on the basis that he was tired of the needless violence and seeing Ulaz fighting for his life, covered in grime and dirt and the blood of his opponents.

Not enemies.

They were never enemies.

Even if Thace was tired of _watching_ , he knew that it was so much more difficult on Ulaz. Even though Ulaz knew that Thace was aware of his situation, by all accounts, he was alone, and nobody was going to help him. Thace hadn’t tried contacting the Blade again. He knew what Kolivan would say.

“ _It is too dangerous to try and retrieve him. We cannot have you risking your safety and position on the off chance that you can save him._ ”

Kolivan didn’t mean any of it maliciously—he likely wanted to save Ulaz as much as Thace did. He had seen both Ulaz and Thace train, witnessed their individual trials, had seen them through some of the most grueling field operations they had undertaken since passing their trials… Kolivan had likely made sure that Ulaz’s mothers were safe and out of harm’s way. It was to protect the Blade. It was to protect everything they had worked for. Thace knew that, and Ulaz did too.

But it was a lot different to _know_ that, though, than it was to actually ignore the impulse to help Ulaz.

Ulaz’s opponent had now picked up a shard from their destroyed weapon, intending to wield it—but their footing was shaky. They knew that their battle was coming to an end, even if they intended to go down fighting. Ulaz wasn’t moving in to strike either, much to the displeasure of the crowd. Still, Thace remained in his seat, even as the other soldiers around him began chanting for the end of the fight. When his opponent lunged, Ulaz dodged to the side, striking them on the back of back of the head with the hilt of his blade. The other gladiator fell into the dirt and didn’t get up, although from this distance, Thace couldn’t tell whether they were actually dead or just unconscious. It didn’t really matter. His ears pinned back as the crowd erupted in cheers.

He continued watching numbly, as a sentry came forward and grabbed Ulaz, taking him off the field. Thace didn’t know if it was just pure luck, but… Ulaz looked in his direction as he was being led away. The crowd around Thace seemed to be further away as he met Ulaz’s gaze. He noticed Ulaz was limping heavily, and his fur had been stained a deep blue from the blood of his opponent. Their gazes only remained locked for half a tick before Ulaz was roughly shoved back towards the other side of the arena, where the entrance to the prison cells were.

Even with a sponsor, Ulaz was still in pretty bad shape, but short of finding a way to break him out, there was little that Thace would be able to do now. He didn’t have any way to even _talk_ to Ulaz right now that wouldn’t draw too much attention to himself. It was true that Thace had grown accustomed to working alone before Ulaz had arrived at Central Command, but then he had grown used to working with Ulaz again. If they could talk, perhaps they could think of a plan…

Thace was thinking on it as he left the arena, when he ran into Throk.

“There you are,” Throk said, sounding urgent. “I need you to take care of that gladiator for me.”

“Why?” Thace asked.

“Because Norok is visiting, and Mother demanded I see him,” Throk explained, grimacing as he had to mention his older brother by name. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Well, that was a solution Thace hadn’t thought of—he had assumed that Throk would ask his own lieutenant, or perhaps his sister to take care of Ulaz in the event that he was too busy, or didn’t feel like doing it himself. Thace was a least glad that Nylak wasn’t going to be within a claw-length of Ulaz.

Thace just shook his head, and went along with it.

—

The prison cells were much as they had been when Thace had originally come down with Throk—but he hadn’t expected much change. He couldn’t see into the cells, due to the way they were designed. It seemed to be a deliberate choice, in order to prevent prisoners from finding ways to escape. As he was led down the hall by a medic, Thace took the time observe the area for any signs of escape routes that he could potentially pass off to Ulaz. He could see an access vent to the ducts above them, meaning one of the duct shafts ran only the ceiling. It would make for a good escape route, if Ulaz could manage to get up there with his still healing leg.

One of the “perks” of having a sponsor was that Ulaz got a better cell than most. It was still sparse, with very little in the way of comfort. When the door slid open, Thace spotted Ulaz curled up in the back corner, forehead pressed against his knees, and hands cuffed in front of him. His ears twitched at the faint _swoosh_ of the door, and when he glanced up—revealing the muzzle that was still fastened over the lower half of his face—his ears gave the slightest of perks at the sight of Thace. It appeared that he had already gone through some rudimentary healing to take care of some scrapes. Or perhaps he had just gotten the blood scrubbed off of him to make him appear more presentable.

“Remove his muzzle,” Thace said.

The medic at his side looked at him as if he had a second head. “Sir, I don’t think—”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Thace questioned, patience wearing thin. “I’m not scared of his teeth.”

For about half a tick, the medic seemed to internally deliberate before they decided it was better not to argue. Thace heard them grumble something under their breath before they crossed the cell and began working the clasps of the muzzle free. When they got it off, they immediately jumped back, as if scared that Ulaz was going to snap at them. However, Ulaz merely began rubbing the places the muzzle had been digging into his skin, gritting his teeth.

“I am _not_ removing the cuffs,” the medic said firmly, leveling Thace with an unamused look. “If you need anything else, just use your comlink.”

“Thank you,” Thace said politely at the medic’s back. Then, he turned to Ulaz.

Ulaz had moved from his spot, keeping his gaze trained on the floor even as Thace crouched down in front of him and began searching through the medkit he had been provided with. It was a basic one, with only the most rudimentary of healing supplies. Thace was only supposed to make sure his wounds weren’t festering, apply bandages, and ensure that Ulaz wasn’t hiding any injuries. If there was anything suspicious, he was supposed to report it to a trained medic.

Gently, he took hold of Ulaz’s chin, turning his head to the side to check a scratch that he had gotten on his cheek. He felt Ulaz stiffen, but said nothing as he lightly began dabbing antiseptic on the wound. Working through all of Ulaz’s injuries was a slow process, as Thace was trying to be more gentle than any of the medic would have been, but there wasn’t anyone around, so he took his time. The entire time, Ulaz was uncharacteristically silent, and he barely reacted whenever Thace prodded him too hard by accident—only shaking his head when Thace uttered a soft apology every time.

“Lift your arm, please,” Thace requested. “I need to check your sides now.”

Ulaz followed the order without hesitation, but he winced as he did so. Thace’s ears pinned back as he reached out to lightly press his fingers against Ulaz’s side, along his ribs. No sooner had he done that did Ulaz let out a faint hiss.

“I’m… _fine_ ,” Ulaz grumbled softly.

Thace scoffed, eyes narrowing into the makings of a glare. “The Void you’re fine.”

“What are you even doing down here?” Ulaz asked, although he didn’t sound angry in the slightest. He was speaking in a quiet tone, barely audible under his breath, as his ears turned in the direction of the still closed door to the cell, as if he was scared that the medic would come back at any moment. “You’re supposed to be maintaining a low profile—not getting me a sponsor and taking care of me after matches.”

Thace sighed, ears drooping. “I didn’t know what else to do…”

Ulaz’s gaze softened, after a moment. “Have you… does Kolivan—”

“Yes,” Thace said, nodding quickly. “I asked him… if we could rescue you but—”

“It’s too risky,” Ulaz finished for him.

Lightly, Thace pressed against another spot on Ulaz’s side where he had been hit during the night’s match. Ulaz groaned, gritting his teeth, but he didn’t make any further complaints. In any other circumstance, Thace would have nuzzled their foreheads together in an attempt to comfort his bondmate, but right now, he resisted the urge… even if hearing Ulaz’s purring right now would have been comforting for the both of them.

“Have you said anything?” Thace asked softly, reaching around to test Ulaz’s other side. He tried to keep the question vague, although judging by how Ulaz’s ears shifted, he got Thace’s meaning.

Ulaz mutely shook his head. “It takes more than a couple of shocks to pull that from me,” he said, voice heavy in the back of his throat. He sounded more tired than Thace had ever heard him before. “There’s more at stake there than just the Blade…”

Thace’s ears shifted back as he realized that Ulaz was talking about _him_. “I’m sorry… that you’re going through this—that I can’t—” he cut off when Ulaz reached out, lightly taking hold of his chin.

“Thace…” Ulaz said, lightly stroking Thace’s cheek. “It’s alright… I don’t blame you.”

“I’ll find a way to help,” Thace insisted, reaching out to lightly scratch beneath Ulaz’s chin. For just a moment, he relaxed, ears at ease, and a low purr rose in the back of his throat. “I’ll find a way to free you—” Thace cut off when Ulaz bumped their foreheads together impulsively. Just for a tick, Thace pressed back against the touch, allowing their noses to brush.


	7. Chapter Seven

From there, Thace fell into a routine. Since he had initially cared for Ulaz after his battle, Thace had only seen Ulaz once or twice. Whenever Throk asked him to care for Ulaz following matches, Thace had agreed to it. Today, as Thace pressed a rag too hard against a deep scrape on Ulaz’s arm, he let out a soft hiss. Thace offered a quiet apology, drawing his hand back.

“Your intuition was right, you know…” Thace said, moving on to the second deep scrape, merely inches above the first. As he continued cleaning the wound, his ears moved forward in interest, waiting for Ulaz’s reply. However, when he didn’t get one, he looked up from his work. Ulaz was staring at the far wall, avoiding his gaze entirely.

“Ulaz?” Thace tried again, and only then did Ulaz glance up. He tilted his head to the side, ears flicking curiously as he waited for Thace to continued. He didn’t look like he had even registered what Thace had just said, eyes tired and ears drooping against the sides of his head. “I said, your intuition was right,” Thace repeated. When Ulaz looked confused, Thace elaborated. “About the Champion? He was sighted in Commander Sendak’s jurisdiction, as a Paladin of Voltron.”

Ulaz’s ears gave the slightest of perks. “He—he made it?”

Thace offered a reassuring smile. “Yes, he did,” he said. “And we have lost communication with Commander Sendak and Lieutenant Haxus. Many believe them to be dead…”

For the Empire, it was a sad turn of events—they had just lost of their most decorated commanders and a promising lieutenant. For the Blade of Marmora, though, it was a success. Kolivan had told Thace to keep tabs on Voltron and report back with whatever he was able to sneak away.

“This couldn’t have happened that long ago,” Ulaz whispered.

“Within the last week,” Thace said. He frowned as he moved to a scrape that Ulaz had gotten on his shoulder. “I had assumed that someone would have informed you.”

Ulaz shook his head. “If they did, I don’t remember it…”

Thace’s ears shifted back as he frowned. “Did you hit your head?”

“No,” Ulaz said simply. Judging by his tone, it was far more complicated than that. When Thace opened his mouth to ask, Ulaz cut him off. “I’m not going to tell you. I would only upset you.”

Thace scoffed, turning Ulaz’s chin to get a better view of the scrape he was working on cleaning. “Not upset me any more than you _lying_ to me.”

Ulaz sighed, ears dropping again as he conceded to that. “I would assume they’re drugging me… perhaps through water,” he explained. “I know several that are tasteless, so prisoners won’t notice until it’s already in their system…”

“Should I—” Thace began, with every intention to offer to try and convince Throk that Ulaz needed better conditions. If he was able to manage it, at least, without attracting suspicion or pissing Throk off by overstepping.

Ulaz shook his head. “Keep your head down, and stop interfering… _please_ …”

It was with a heavy heart that Thace agreed to his request. They continued on in silence, punctuated by Ulaz occasionally letting out a hiss of pain and Thace apologizing softly until all of Ulaz’s wounds were patched up and bandaged.

“I love you.” Ulaz’s voice came out as little more than a whisper—for half a tick, Thace wondered if he had even heard it at all, looking up from finishing his bandaging of Ulaz’s hand.

“I know,” Thace said easily, ears flicking in concern against the sides of his head. “Ulaz… why are you bringing this up?”

“I…” Ulaz trailed off, voice seeming to catch in the back of his throat as he brow furrowed. Then, he leaned forward, in order to bump their foreheads together. “I wanted to affirm it…” he continued, voice soft. “Just in case…”

Thace opened his mouth to argue—to promise that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn't promise that if he wasn't entirely sure of what was going to happen. So instead, he gave a shaky sigh, pressing back against Ulaz's touch.

—

Thace continued attending nearly every battle—he really couldn’t help it, noticeable changes in his behavior be damned. He _had_ to be there, to mentally support his bondmate. It didn’t matter if Ulaz wouldn’t have known if he was there or not. Thace hoped that just the idea of him potentially being there helped, even though he wasn’t in a position to do anything.

He had savored every visit, knowing that it might have been the last one…

How long had it been since Ulaz had blown his cover? Thace couldn’t remember—a couple of weeks, maybe. The last time he had visited Ulaz, he had noticed how Ulaz seemed to be having trouble remembering things, much less how long he had been held prisoner. He _did_ remember things that happened years before… when he had asked to see Thace’s bonding necklace, he had been able to recall their bonding ceremony with extreme clarity. What he couldn’t remember, was things that he and Thace had discussed during their previous visits. Ulaz was beginning to falter, almost as if he was slowly slipping down a slope. Even with a sponsor, and somewhat frequent contact with Thace, he was still struggling.

Thace had known it was a temporary solution, but he hadn’t had time to think of anything better aside from just blowing his own cover to get Ulaz out of this. He had hoped that by getting Ulaz a sponsor, it would have helped Ulaz so that he could think of another plan. And he was slowly running out of time because he and Commander Prorok were going to be shipped out to X-95-Vox to deal with the Paladins of Voltron— _allegedly_ , they had been seen on the Balmera shortly after Commander Sendak’s had entered complete radio silence, and Prorok was being a glory hound, as usual.

While Thace wasn’t going to argue against seeing Voltron in action, when the information would be useful to the Blade, he did not like the idea of leaving Ulaz here alone.

For now, though, he tried to focus on the match, watching as Ulaz bobbed and waved, trying to avoid strikes from his opponent—a Leonis this time. Not an opponent to take lightly, due to their dentition and claws. Having grow up with Antok, who was half-Leonis, Thace had seen more than his fair share of a Leonis’ claws, but never the dentition. That had been a trait that Antok hadn’t inherited from his bloodparent. Apparently, Leonis had molars that acted like shears, and such a strong bite force that if Ulaz got his arm caught in his opponent’s mouth, he wasn’t going to be leaving the arena with it.

“Did you bet on your gladiator tonight, Throk?” Thace asked casually.

Throk scoffed, eyes not straying from the fight as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Of course I did,” he said, as if it should have been an obvious conclusion to come to. Then, his gaze flicked to Thace for a tick. “Did you?”

“I don’t bet,” Thace said blandly—if he _did_ , though, he would’ve put all the GAC he had on Ulaz.

With a soft hum, Throk looked back to the battle. They watched silently as Ulaz ducked under the Leonis’ arm, before dropping down to sweep their legs out from underneath of them. With a blade poised to strike, the match was called, much to Thace’s relief. He withheld his sigh.

“I find it odd that you’ve been sticking around his long,” Throk said, ears flicking forward in interest, although his gaze didn’t stray from the field. “Why the sudden change in attitude?”

“Intrigue,” Thace said—which was true. He was very intrigued by watching Ulaz fight, but he was more interested in seeing Ulaz win. It meant that he had another couple of quintants to think of some kind of escape plan, and he never planned on squandering them.

“Intrigue in him, you mean,” Throk said—it was a statement, not a question. “You have _quite_ the interest… I do not know whether or not I should be concerned.”

“I’m touched that you’re concerned about me,” Thace said flatly, ears twitching against the sides of his head. “Regardless, there is nothing for you to be concerned about. I am interested in how long he is going to last, because someone stronger always comes along.”

Throk said nothing for a moment, but judging by how his ears were moving back, or the grimace on his face, he was thinking about something. “Commander Sendak has been silent for roughly a week now,” he said, as if trying to change the subject. “And the Paladins of Voltron were sighted in a different sector—you’re shipping out soon, aren’t you?”

“Why?” Thace asked.

“Because I caught Nylak delivering information to Commander Prorok a couple of shifts ago,” Throk said. “It’s a shame, really… you’re going to miss my gladiator going up against the new champion. Nylak was very pleased about that.”

Thace’s ears nearly pinned back before he could school his expression. “New champion?”

“You never stick around long enough to see him,” Throk said dismissively. “A Lachesis, one of their elders, as bloodthirsty as any of them… and, assuming my gladiator doesn’t die from the venom, the witch is going to use him for some more information… she has assured me that I’ll be compensated, of course—”

“I thought Nylak’s unit was in charge of his interrogations,” Thace cut in.

“I don’t know the details,” Throk grumbled, looking displeased about that. “May stars watch over him… I wouldn’t want to be interrogated by her.”

Thace wasn’t scared of Witch Haggar. Not in the traditional sense, at least. His fear of her would have been more to do with potentially having to deal with her seeing through his ruse. That she’d try to get information about the Blade of Marmora out of him—that she’s find out the location of the main base, that the organization would fall… Ulaz was likely feeling similarly right now.

“Surely she’d have more use for him _before_ he’s pumped full of Lachesis venom,” Thace pointed out.

“It matters very little to her,” Throk said, shaking his head. If he was going to say anything else, though, he didn’t get the chance. Another match was starting to get set up on the field, and Throk’s ears shifted forward as another challenger for Ulaz was led out—evidently he was going to be going through at least two matches tonight. His new opponent was a smaller one this time, one that it wouldn’t have been much a challenge. They certainly didn’t appear to be a warrior… but then again, gladiators were always full of surprise.

As the next match started, Thace debated what he should do. He knew that he couldn’t continue to just by and do nothing—not when Ulaz was going to be handed over to the Druids. He would be under near constant watch, in one of the highest security areas of the fleet, and there would be no chance of freeing him after that. Even if he would still be a gladiator—maybe—Thace wouldn’t have much chance of being able to see him again. Not to mention it would be difficult to find information.

He had to act, preferably now, before he and Prorok left in order to go and deal with the Paladins.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done by [artsy-oleander](http://artsy-oleander.tumblr.com/).

As far as Thace was aware, the ducts that connected different areas of the ship lacked motion and heat sensors. He thanked the stars he was on the smaller side, so he could comfortably squeeze inside—but there was no chance that Ulaz would be able to pull himself through here, especially given some of his injuries. Thace pushed that thought to the back of his mind. He didn’t have time to think this through. With a flick of his eyes to the side, he pulled up the map he had been using to track his progress onto the visual receptors of his mask. He just needed to make it to Ulaz’s cell and they could work it out from there.

According to the map, another couple hundred feet and he would theoretically be above Ulaz’s cell. The prisoner deck was an area of winding corridors—Thace assumed it was a deliberate design choice, in order to deter escape attempts, but hopefully, he had mapped out a route that he would be able to lead Ulaz through to get to the docking bays. Allowing the map to drop from his mask’s visual receptors, Thace slowly made his way forward again, crawling along on his belly as he listened below for any signs of movement. The hallway below sounded deserted—but given it was the middle of the night cycle, the only personnel that would be up would be the night guards. Sentry patrols only came onto this subdeck when retrieving or returning prisoners, sticking to the outskirts. If they were lucky, he and Ulaz would be able to avoid them entirely.

Thace had already prepared a shuttle with enough supplies for one person to escape. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to go with Ulaz, even though he wanted to in order to make sure Ulaz actually got away unharmed this time. He couldn’t risk his position in High Command—it was why he was dressed in his Blade of Marmora armor, with his mask over his face, hiding his identity from any cameras that might have spotted him.

Later, when it came to it, he could feign innocence. He had always been a gifted liar, after all. He was supposed to play the part of a loyal lieutenant to the Empire, and he could continue on like that, so long as Ulaz was out of harm’s way—or relative harm’s way. Once Ulaz was back with the Blade of Marmora, he could be healed, and then sent to another posting. Knowing Kolivan, Ulaz would be sent to recuperate while still doing his part. That meant communications division, one of Ulaz’s least favorite things.

When Thace’s mask beeped suddenly, he stopped crawling, just before a grate. Pulling up the map again, he found that this was his destination. Peering down through the grate, he listened intently for anyone passing by. His mask didn’t detect any hostiles below, but it didn’t pay to be too careful. So, he sat there for a good five doboshes, listening for the sounds of medics or a lone sentry. When he heard none, he worked the grate free. Carefully, he set it to the side, and leaned out of the duct. It was near pitch black in the hallway, without any signs of life in the hallway.

Good. He had been right to try this when most people—including the majority of the intelligence officers—were off duty. Catching himself on the edge of the vent, Thace flipped out of the duct, before lowering himself the ground and darting to press his back against the wall. Even if the corridor was dark and deserted, he tried to stay in the shadows. Slowly, he crept along, checking the cells as he went. It was easy enough to find which cell was Ulaz’s. Thace had memorized his prisoner number—116-1789. It was marked outside of his cell, perhaps for ease of recognition.

Hacking his way past the lock only took a tick—the Empire _really_ needed to update their security when it came to their locks. Perhaps they had been intending to, after one prisoner had escaped. It was a shame they hadn’t gotten around to it until two prisoners had disappeared. Thace might’ve been jinxing it, though. As the door opened with a faint _whoosh_ , Thace ducked inside, but even when he saw Ulaz huddled in the back corner of his cell—muzzle in place, cuffs around his wrists—he still didn’t take his mask off.

Ulaz’s ears flicked at the sound of the door opening, but he didn’t raise his gaze from the floor immediately. Instead, a low, warning growl rose in the back of his throat, as if he were expecting it to be one of the doctors. Thace couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like, to have your former colleagues poking and prodding at you like you were just another specimen in Witch Haggar’s ever-growing collection. Mercifully, Ulaz had been spared of her experiments—although based on the way Nylak had been talking, those would have come along sooner, rather than later.

“What do you want?” Ulaz managed to ask, although his voice was muffled somewhat by the muzzle.

“To rescue you, preferably,” Thace said. Even though his voice was heavily augmented by his mask, Ulaz’s ears still perked at the sound of it. His gaze lifted from the floor as his eyes widened, gaze softening considerably. He said nothing else as Thace quickly crossed the cell and knelt down beside him. Gently, Thace worked the fastenings of the muzzle free, taking care to prevent from hurting Ulaz. As soon as the muzzle was off, Ulaz rubbed the areas the material had been digging into his skin, creating visible creases in his fur. Thace almost asked if Ulaz was alright, but stopped, and busied himself with removing Ulaz’s cuffs instead.

“You can’t be found down here,” Ulaz said tiredly. “They’ll kill you.”

“Well, then we best get a move on,” Thace said, offering Ulaz his hand. Even though he knew the risk he was taking, he couldn’t help how his ears pinned back at the sound of Ulaz’s voice—he spoke so softly that he was barely audible, and when he reached out to take hold of Thace’s hand, his grip was tight. As Ulaz was pulled back to his feet, he stumbled, nearly tumbling back onto the floor, and held his head in his hand.

“Sorry—” Ulaz started.

Carefully, Thace maneuvered himself underneath Ulaz’s arm, slinging it around his shoulders before helping Ulaz to his feet. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” Thace assured him, guiding Ulaz towards the door. “Now, where do they keep your blade? Do you know?”

“With the rest of the weaponry…” Ulaz said. Even though they hadn’t really moved yet, he was already huffing a little bit. Thace’s ears flicked at the sound, but he tried to push it to the back of his mind. They would just have to move a little more slowly than he had originally planned for.

“And where’s that?” Thace asked, poking his head out of the cell. The visual receptors of his mask were designed honed in on the slightest movement from down the hall—however, he couldn’t pick out anything out of the ordinary, or any heat signatures aside from those of other prisoners.

“There’s… there’s an armory at the end of the hall,” Ulaz whispered, peering out of the cell as well. “I noticed it once when they were bringing me back from a match…”

Carefully, Thace adjusted how Ulaz’s arm rest across his shoulders. “How long do we have?”

Ulaz was quiet for a long moment, and in the dim light, Thace couldn’t see much more than the glow of his eyes and the outline of his profile. Then, his brow furrowed and he sighed heavily. “A varga… maybe less,” he said, ears pinning back.

“Well, first we have to get your blade,” Thace reminded him. Then, he started down the hall, as quickly as he was able. It was more of a hobble than it was walking, but he couldn’t risk trying to move Ulaz around too quickly, in case he tripped and alerted the entire prison block to their presence. There would be no hope of escaping then.

Getting to the armory was the easy part—finding Ulaz’s blade amongst the mess of other weaponry was another matter entirely. Thace had been into the blade vault back at the main base once, when he had been receiving his blade. It had been massive, with at least a hundred blades stored away for future use, as well as ceremonial pieces that likely hadn’t been wielded in hundreds… perhaps thousands of years. Bladesmith Evren had always taken great pride in her care for the Blade’s weaponry, even if a good chunk of them wouldn’t have been wielded in her lifetime. But at least it was _neater_ and more organized—not as overwhelming.

In theory, Ulaz’s weapon would be easy enough to find, given its distinct design, even if it had morphed back into its unawakened state. A quick glance over of the room yielded nothing.

“Just sit here and rest,” Thace said, gently helping Ulaz lower himself to the floor so that he could sit while Thace searched. Ulaz settled down, still huffing as he tried to catch his breath. While they hadn’t made it very far, they couldn’t afford to be slow, either. As soon as Thace managed to find his blade, they would have to move and get out of the prisoner deck before anyone noticed Ulaz’s absence.

There were several, oversized prosthetics here. The design of them reminded Thace of the one he had seen Commander Sendak wield in battle. Large, intimidating, meant to strike fear into the hearts of anyone who dared oppose him, and _highly_ impractical. Thace didn’t see the appeal such weapons had, but if the Druids wanted to use Commander Sendak as their little pet project, Thace wasn’t going to argue it. He just didn’t want to meet Sendak on the battlefield anytime soon—or Lieutenant Haxus, for that matter.

Other weapons he noticed as he made his way around the room include standard, bludgeoning ones. Clubs, maces, and such. From what Thace could tell, several of the ones displayed on the walls were meant to emulate the tradition designs of Daibazaal. He also recognized the weapon that had once been wielded by the former Champion Myzax. A shiver ran up his spine as he remembered how the energy ball that had been attached to the thing would shoot around the arena with enough force to make his teeth hurt and strain his ears. Giving the weapon one last glance, Thace back to his search.

Finally, at the back of the room, he found the swords. Thace immediately recognized Ulaz’s blade where it was prominently displayed. Perhaps the Druids had been treating it as some kind of trophy? They didn’t seem to know what to make of it, aside from it being made of luxite. Thace didn’t know what the Druids wee, but he had always doubted they were Galra. If Ulaz had died, or purposefully surrendered his blade, the Druids would have been hard pressed to reawaken it.

“ _Thace_ ,” Ulaz hissed from the other side of the room, voice hoarse. “Thace, someone’s coming—”

Without thinking, Thace grabbed the blade off of the wall and stashed it at his hip before darting back over to help Ulaz back to his feet. They ducked behind one of the haphazardly organized shelves as the door to the room opened. Blood roared in Thace’s ears as he tried to keep Ulaz steady and upright—there was no room for him to sit down here. With his mask on, Thace couldn’t smell, but instead of the harsh clank of metallic feet, or the soft brush of robes across the floor, it sounded like footsteps.

It was just a doctor.

_Thank the stars_ , it was just a doctor.

“Should we do something?” Ulaz whispered. Before the question was even out of his mouth, he was already reaching for where his blade was at Thace’s hip.

Thace carefully batted his hand away. “You are in no position to fight,” he hissed, though no unkindly. “If either of us is going to do anything, it’ll be me. Now, hush, I’m trying to listen…”

As the doctor made their rounds, Thace tried to stay calm. If the doctor noticed a weapon was missing, would they sound the alarm? Would they even notice that Ulaz’s blade was missing from its display spot? The doctor continued throughout the room, humming softly to themselves. As the ticks turned into doboshes, Thace began to get impatient—but then the doctor seemed to find what they were looking for.

When the door to the room slid shut behind them as they left, Thace let out a sigh of relief.

—

The rest of the journey to the escape pods was a slow one. Ulaz’s ankle seemed to be giving him trouble, and as they grew closer to the escape pods, Thace noticed how Ulaz was leaning more heavily against him. When Thace had asked, Ulaz claimed it wasn’t anything more than a sprain—while Thace was tempted to question if Ulaz was lying just so he wouldn’t worry, he decided to let it go.

Anytime a patrol passed them, though, Thace would make sure to put himself between Ulaz and them… just in case.

By the time they ducked into one of the escape pod bays, it was nearing 0300—Thace had a shift starting in two vargas. Even though he wanted this send off to last longer, he knew that they would need to make this quick. He would need time to stash his armor and get to the bridge on time. He couldn’t risk anybody connecting the escape of one of the gladiators to his lateness. While it wasn’t a substantial link, he didn’t want to take the risk… because he couldn’t go with Ulaz. He would be risking the Blade of Marmora’s plan to overthrow the Emperor. As harsh of a reality as it was.

“It should be all prepped and ready to go,” Thace said softly, helping Ulaz into the pod. “Can you enter the coordinates? Or do I need to—”

“I’d better do it,” Ulaz said, shaking his head. He knew the coordinates for his rendezvous point, while Thace didn’t. Thace doubted they were the same as the ones that he was supposed to go to if he blew his own cover or had to escape if he was discovered to be a traitor. Thace lingered at the back of the pod, averting his gaze so he didn’t risk spotting the coordinates by accident. If he didn’t know them, he couldn’t give them away if he was caught later.

“Will you be alright?” Thace pressed. “I brought supplies… smuggled them out of storage. The quartermaster shouldn’t notice until you’re long gone, and I didn’t leave any traces of my presence while I was—”

“Thace,” Ulaz said, cutting him off. His voice was soft enough that any cameras outside the pod wouldn’t be able to hear him. “I’ll be fine. Right now, you need to take care of yourself.”

Thace sighed, ears pinning back beneath his hood. “I’m just… worried that something is going to go wrong now…”

“I’ll be fine,” Ulaz repeated. “Once I’m to my destination, the Blade there will take care of me. Then I’ll be reassigned…”

Ulaz trailed off, and silence hung in the air between them. Thace tried to think of something else to say, but his tongue caught in his throat, and he couldn’t manage anything else. He watched as Ulaz approached him, limping until they stood opposite of one another. Thace tipped his head back enough that he could meet Ulaz’s gaze. And then, he allowed his mask to deactivate, revealing his face… but with his hood still up, only Ulaz could see it. If Ulaz was surprised, the only indication was the slight backward shift of his ears.

Ulaz opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. Slowly, Thace reached up, gently guiding Ulaz down so that their foreheads touched and noses brushed.

“I love you…” Thace whispered, biting back the purr that was beginning to build in the back of his throat.

Ulaz had no such reservations. While it was soft, his purring was obvious and clear as he pressed back against Thace’s touch. “I know…”

“I wanted to affirm it… just—” Thace cut off, voice catching in his throat.

“Just in case?” Ulaz guessed.

Even though he didn’t want to step back, to move away from Ulaz, Thace knew that he had to… or else he’d give in.

“You should go… before someone realizes that a prisoner is escaping,” Ulaz said, even though he didn’t seem any more eager for Thace to leave.

Thace nodded again, and finally he turned away. His mask had rematerialized before he even finished turning. “Be careful,” he said over his shoulder, voice already augmented with a metallic sounding undertone. He hoped that it sounded soft, in spite of that.

“I will,” Ulaz assured him.

—

Following the escape of one of the gladiators, the only evidence of a saboteur in High Command was a grainy camera shot of an intruder dressed in black. The glowing lights on their armor were the only reason they stood out in the dim lighting of the escape pod bay. They turned towards the camera, displaying the three lights and two sets of whiskers that were on their mask. They didn’t do anything, just tilted their head as they regarded the camera that had obviously seen them. There was the slightest shift of their hood as their ears perked in interest. Faintly, there was the sound of rockets firing as an escape pod was jettisoned, and the saboteur’s gaze snapped in the direction of the sound.

They stood there, for half a dobosh, seemingly staring at nothing.

And then, they moved, darting off and disappearing back into the gloom of the ship right before a patrol of sentries came to investigate the area.

Imperial Commander never did find out who it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And like that, this fic is done :') I just want to thank my artists and betas for putting up with me dragging my feet constantly while writing this... they really kept me going on this fic even when I really didn't want to touch it and I can't thank them enough for it <3


End file.
